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SERMON 



PHEACHED IN THE 



CHUECH IN BEATTLE SQUxVRE, 



JANUARY 9th, 1853, 



THE SUNDAY AFTER THE TUSEKAL OF 



AMOS LAWRENCE. 



BY THE PASTOR OP THAT CHUUCH, 

S. K. LOTHROP, D. D 



BOSTON: 

1853. 

EASTBURN'S P R E S S 



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SERMON 



PREACHED IN THE 



CHURCH IN BRATTLE SQUARE 



JANUARY 9th, 1853, 



THE SUNDAY AFTER THE FUNERAL OP 



AMOS LAAVEENCE. 



BY 'I'HE PASTOR or THAT CHURCH, 

S. K. LOTIIROP, D. D 



BOS TON: 
1853. 

EASTBURN'S PRESS 



I yo I 



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Boston, Jancaey 13th, 1853. 
Rev. and Dear Sir : 

At a meeting of the Standing Committee of the Proprietors of the Church 
in Brattle Square, holden January 11th, 1853; it was 

Voted, That Messrs. Dale, Jenks and Thacher, he a Committee to request 
of the Rev. Dr. Lothrop for publication, a copy of the very appropriate discourse 
preached by him on the ninth instant, upon the life and character of the late 
Amos Lawrence, for a long time one of the Deacons of the Church. 

In conformity with the foregoing vote, we respectfully request the manuscript 
copy of the sermon for publication. 

With high regard, 

"We are yours. 



Ebenezer Dat-e, 

John H. Jenks, \ Committee. 

George M. Thacher, 



J 



To the Rev. S. K. Lotiirop, D.D. 



Court Street, January 20Tn, 1853. 
Gentlemen : 

In compliance with the request of the Standing Committee of the Society in 
Brattle Square, transmitted through you, I send the manuscript of the sermon 
preached by mc on the ninth instant. Some more perfect and worthy tribute to 
the memory of Amos Lawrence, going into the details of his life and charac- 
ter, his charities and his correspondence will, I understand, be prepared. Not 
wishing to encroach at all upon the province of this contemplated work, and 
not feeling at liberty to do so, I omit all that I might have added in the shape of 
notes, from my own knowledge and correspondence with him, that would have 
given increased interest and value to this sermon. Imperfect as it is, however, 
I cheerfully place it at the disposal of the Committee. 

Respectfully, yours, 

S. K. Lothrop. 
To Messrs. E. Dale, J. II. Jenks and G. M. Thacher, 



SERMON. 



EOMANS, XIV. — 17. 

" Eol- none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself." 

The truth thus emphatically stated by the Apostle, 
is founded upon the social nature and the mutual rela- 
tions of men. We are linked together in life and in 
death by a common and indistructible bond. No man 
can so separate himself from his felloAvs as to stand 
alone. While his sympathies lead him to society, his 
necessities bind him to it and make him dependent 
upon it. We fly to one another for support. Our 
benevolent and our selfish affections, our happiness and 
our interests alike prompt to this. Society is founded 
upon this principle of mutual dependence; and we 
test its healthy condition by the extent to which its 
different classes recognize and feel it. The relations 
between these classes are happy, their reciprocal infiu- 



ence is beneficial, the movement of the whole is har- 
monious and easy, just in proportion as all are pervad- 
ed by this sentiment of mutual dependence and mutual 
obligation. The merchant is dependent upon the 
youngest apprentice to whom he gives food and cloth- 
ing. He has duties and obligations to that apprentice, 
which he may no more innocently neglect than he may 
neglect integrity in his largest negotiations. And that 
apprentice has his place and power, a work to do, a 
duty to discharge ; and if he fail or do wrong, he suf- 
fers not alone ; his emj^loyer suffers not alone ; the 
injury may be felt from the centre to the verge of the 
commercial world. 

In material affairs, in outward relations, our mutual 
dependence, the extent to which we may aid or injure 
one another is so obvious, that few fail to perceive it. 
As the statement of a general principle, the text in- 
cludes these, but its special reference is to things moral 
and spiritual, to that influence of soul upon soul, of 
mind upon mind, of example and character, which we 
all exert more or less, for good or ill, upon each other. 
In this respect we have a common power over, a com- 
mon subjection to one another. We are as mutually 
dependent, morally and spiritually, as physically ; we 
have more power, a mder reach of influence in the 
one direction than the other. The commonest day 



laborer, the humblest artizan, can do more m the 
world and for the world, by the force of his character, 
by the teachings of his example, the lessons of his 
daily life, than by all the strength of his body or the 
skill of his hand. 

This influence of character, of example, of soul 
upon soul, is among the greatest of all the mflu- 
ences that affect mdi^idual or social condition. A 
brief self-inspection would lead us to notice its power 
every day over ourselves, m the extent to which our 
own thoughts are directed, our own opinions mould- 
ed, our own characters affected by contact with the 
thoughts, the opinions, the characters of others. A 
larger survey of ourselves, of our past and present rela- 
tions, woidd teach us that from the first whispers of 
maternal tenderness heard in our mfancy, from the 
playmates of our childliood in the nursery and the 
school-room, onward all the way through life, we have 
been constantly recei\dng impressions and mfluences 
from others, whose power for good or evil over our 
characters, opmions, conduct, and through these over 
our social position and prospects, has been great, sub- 
tle, controlling, to an extent we neither accurately 
measure nor justly estimate. We should not forget that 
during all this time we ourselves have been impartmg 
as well as receiving impressions, that as others are, as 



6 



it were, Ihdng and acting in us, in our characters, so 
we arc lining and acting in others, through the influ- 
ence we have exerted upon their characters. We are 
apt to forget this. "VVe shrink from the responsibility 
our influence over others involves ; we endeavor to es- 
cape it by denying or disclaiming that influence. In 
other things, in busmess, politics, all purely worldly 
affau-s, men are often proud of their power over others, 
boast of the controlling influence they exert over them. 
But remind a man of his moral power, ask him if he 
has done any thing for the souls of his fellow men, if 
a religious example has spoken through his life, and a 
spiritual influence gone forth from his character, if 
those around him are any better for his having lived 
among them, if he has made it one of the aims of 
his being to strengthen the weak, to reclaim the er- 
ring, to encourage the faint-hearted, and to help for- 
ward all whom he could in the way of duty and of 
everlasting life — ask him this, and you will hear no 
boasting of power. The individual questioned will dis- 
claim the possession of any. He will tell you that 
others, whose wealth, talents, character, station, place 
them in the foremost ranks of the community, have in- 
fluence; they can be guides, examples, helps to their 
fellow men ; they are a city set on a hill ; but as for 
himself he is a private mdividual, in an humble sphere ; 



with little property and less talent and no influence. 
He can do little or nothing for others, and is not re- 
sponsible for them. 

In the court of conscience and at the bar of God, 
this plea availeth not. We cannot escape the principle 
of the text by denying its application to ourselves. 
That principle is universal. The declaration is unqual- 
ified ; " none of us liveth," that is, can or should live 
"to himself." Ability is the measure of duty in all 
things, and where much is given much will also be 
required ; but the humblest, the most obscure and un- 
distinguished individual, can not so live apart as that 
his life shall not be observed, his character not be 
noticed, his example not be felt, either for good or e^dl 
by others. He must make, and hour by hour he does 
make some impression u]3on the moral beings around 
him. Undoubtedly this plea of inability and an hum- 
ble private station is often conscientiously urged, and it 
indicates a not unamiable state of mind ; but even 
when conscientiously oiTered, it is commonly without 
any foundation, and is often a mere excuse for moral 
indolence. The world suffers full as much, I appre- 
hend, from the modesty of the self-depreciating, as from 
the presumptuous self-esteem of the conceited. The 
latter, often, like " fools rush in where angels dare not 
tread," but as has been well said, " they make the path 



8 



of duty easier for the angels to follow," so that others 
with more force but less confidence, successfidly accom- 
plish what would never have been attempted, but for 
their presumption ; while through the foi-mer, a great 
mass of talents and influence lies buried in action, and 
a spirit is indulged which cripples effort, paralyzes 
energy, and narrows the sphere of benevolent exertion. 
" None of us liveth to himself" An untold power of 
usefulness is wrapt up in each of us. Every man, 
simply because he is a man, a social and moral being, 
becomes the centre of good or bad influences to those 
around him. We attach an undue importance to a 
prominent social position and to public life, as a means 
and sphere of usefulness. We mistake upon this point. 
I say nothing to depreciate the value of services render- 
ed in a public station to the common good. I honor 
those who, with integrity unstained, and a large unself- 
ish patriotism, have thus fliithfully devoted their tal- 
ents to the public service. But there are other and 
greater benefactors, other and greater intellectual giants 
and moral heroes, than those of public life. The hon- 
orable, conscientious, successful management of private 
affairs, in almost any of the business avocations of life, 
requhes an amount and versatility of talent, of mental 
energy and moral force, greater than is demanded for 
most public offices, and the performance of the greater 



part of those public acts which in this country so engross 
the attention, fix and fill the admiration of the people. 

But whether this be so or not, we can not doubt that 
he who is faithful and worthy in private life, whether 
his sphere be humble or exalted, is the centre and the 
source of a beneficent agency. 

Piety to God, love to God's creatures, industry and 
perfect integrity in business, kindness in social inter- 
course, a tender and large-hearted sympathy with hu- 
manity, showing itself in a true public spirit, in valuable 
aid to all good institutions, in encouragement to deserv- 
ing talent, in constant charities, and in kind visits and 
offices that are better than gifts of money, to the poor, 
the afflicted and suffering ; strength, purity of principle, 
showing itself in self-government, in a reverence for law 
and^order, in a life free from all the defilements of sen- 
sual passion, and marked by the daily beauty of holi- 
ness; in short, the unostentatious but real, solid, sub- 
stantial virtues of a Christian character,— ra character for 
which we have to make no qualifications, offer no apolo- 
gies, which commands alike our profoundest reverence 
and our warmest love, — these make a man a real and 
large benefactor to his race, though he has walked ever 
in the humblest sphere of private life. From his exam- 
ple and character there has gone forth, and there goes 
forth continually, an influence, holy, animating, persua- 



10 



sivc to goodness, to an extent of "vvhich. we have no 
means or modes of measurement. It is an unknown 
quantity, whose amount and value no human equation 
can ascertain. Only God, who looketh into the heart, 
and seeth all the secret mfiuences that move it, can 
measure and tell the good done by a really good man. 

This good is not confined to his o^vn life-time. As 
" none liveth," so " no man dieth to himself" As 
many eyes watch the good man while he lives, and 
many hearts daily tui'n to him with love and gratitude, 
so these eyes are wet with tears, and these hearts are 
filled with various thoughts and emotions when he 
dies. The influence of soul upon soul, character upon 
character, is diffusive and enduring. It has no limit 
but the broad range of humanity, and the Tvide boun- 
daries of the spiritual world. It pervades all time, 
reaches from time to eternity, and comes back from 
Heaven to earth. It ceases not with this life. It gains 
strength, as life wanes and passes away. Death adds to 
its force ; the grave gives it a power it did not possess 
before. The memory of the pious dead, whom we have 
honored, loved, revered, abides with us; the light of 
their example in which we have walked, still shmes 
upon us ; the recollection of their kindness which has 
gladdened our hearts, of their msdom and counsel that 
have illumined our minds, of their holy and beautiful 



11 



characters, comes back to us from their tombs, with a 
charm we cannot and would not resist, with a hallowed, 
I had almost said, a divme power, which our souls 
would obey though a world rose up in arms against us. 
Oh, happy are we and blessed of God, when those 
whom we love depart, leaving behind them a hallowed 
memory and a holy example. 

I can enter, and you, my friends, I am sure, can 
enter also, into that feeling of veneration for the holy 
dead, which in darker ages was exaggerated into gross 
superstition and idolatry. There is a true and just 
canonization of the dead, which we may and should 
make. No longer compassed by mortal infirmities, 
no longer exposed to temptation, weakness or sin, 
an everlasting seal is affixed to their characters ; their 
virtues can know no tarnish, their good deeds are sub- 
ject to no decline, their names are beyond the reach of 
earthly stain. The Church does right to commemorate 
her Saints. Their memory is among her choicest 
treasures. Their characters reflect back a moral glory 
on the Gospel, that made them what they were. Their 
lives are the best and the most unanswerable testimony 
to the divine origin of that Gospel, and their sanctified 
souls the richest purchase of the Saviour's blood. 

Brethren, you understand the occasion that has call- 
ed forth the thoughts I have offered. You have antici- 



12 



pated the application I would make of the emphatic 
declaration of the text. If ever any man lived and 
died in this community, in vt^hom that declaration was 
exemplified and illustrated, we shall all admit, that he, 
whose image is in all our hearts, whose memory fills our 
thoughts, and whose absence this day from our assembly 
makes our Church seem solitary, though crowded, — 
so lived and so died. I come with no movniiful 
requiem. I bring no wail of sorrow. However much 
my heart was imj)elled to this at first, when the an- 
nouncement of his death broke upon us like a heavy 
shock through the early morning air, the reflections 
of Christian faith and hope have made me feel that 
there is a holier tribute than that of tears, that there is a 
loftier emotion than that of sorrow, — that gratitude, and 
not regret, that holy exultation and joy and triumph, — 
should swell our hearts as we contemplate one who so 
lived and so died. The life of a truly good man, calmly 
closed by death, is so much positive treasure added to 
the moral wealth of the world, whose value can not be 
gainsaid, or denied, or diminished. If there is any 
thing precious, any fruits springing up in the fields of 
time, worthy to be preserved, and o\'er wliich we 
should, not weep, but rejoice, it is the memory of a 
true, single-hearted, devoted disciple of Christ, who has 
finished his work on earth, whose soul has been gath- 



13 



ered into the garners of eternity, his spirit joined for- 
ever to the " spirits of the just made perfect." 

I heard a voice saying unto me " Write from hence- 
forth, Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord — yea 
saith the spirit, for they rest from their labors." 

Brethren, a great and good man, — great, I thmk, in- 
tellectually, and great because good, — a man widely 
known and largely honored and tenderly beloved,— a 
man belonging to the public though he held no public 
office, — a man in whom all felt that they had a prop- 
erty, because he loved and served them all ; Avhom all 
miss and mourn, because all saw him daily in his 
walks of cheerful benevolence and holy living, — a 
beloved member and a devoted friend of this church, 
where he worshipped from the day that he came here to 
reside, — a true member of the great, spiritual, universal 
Church of Christ has been removed by death. We 
shall see his face no more on earth. I should be 
wanting to my o^vn feelings of affection and reverence, 
I should disappoint your just expectation, I should fail 
of the religious improvement of the event, did I not 
refer with something more than a passing notice, to 
the character of the late Amos Lawrence. 

The details of his life are few and simple, marked 
by no events or vicissitudes which would be called 
extraordinary. He was born in Groton, Massachusetts, 



14 



on the 22d of April, 1786. His ancestors were among 
the early settlers of the Groton plantation, and all 
through the records and history of the to>Mi the name 
of Lawrence holds an honorable place. His imme- 
diate parents, Samuel and Susan Lawrence, were most 
worthy and respectable persons, whom he ever loved 
and honored, whose characters were marked by the 
stern, lofty, uncompromising virtues of the early New 
England time, and whose example and influence did 
much to form and develope his own character. 

His education, — all the education that he received, — 
consisted in the teachings of nature, in the impres- 
sions made upon him by all that was beautiful, noble 
and inspiring in the scenery amid which his boy- 
hood was passed ; in the influences of a happy Chris- 
tian family, where intelligence and piety presided, and 
pure affections bound the members strongly together ; 
and in such direct instruction in the rudiments of 
knowledge, as could then be obtained at the common 
schools of his native town. God's gifts and his own 
efforts were the soui-ce of all else that he acquired, 
became, or accomplished. Thus educated, he passed a 
brief period with a small trader in Dunstable, then 
entered as clerk or apprentice into a store in Groton, 
whence after a few years he came to this town, not, as 
originally intended, to remain permanently, but to 



L.Gi u. 



15 



acquire such additional knowledge of business, of busi- 
ness men, and of the world, as would qualify him to 
return to his native place, and there conduct suc- 
cessfully commercial pursuits. 

A very few months, however, changed these plans. 
Strong in all those intellectual and moral qualities 
which the hardy and simple life of the country tends 
to foster and develope, — measuring himself by the men 
in business here at that day, younger or older than 
himself, and finding that he was fully their equal, — his 
views and aspirations enlarging as his intercourse with 
the world was extended, he soon came to the conclusion 
that this town was his place, — the sphere in which to 
put forth his energies, his activity and enterprise. After 
a brief period, therefore, spent in an inferior position, 
he commenced busmess for himself, with such capital 
as his own credit and character, and his father's honest 
name could procure; and from that hoiu- his course 
was ever onward. I need not trace his commercial 
career before those, some of the elder of whom can 
remember every step of its honorable progress, and all 
of whom know how long the firm, of which he was 
the senior partner, has stood at the head of the com- 
mercial houses of our city. After more than twenty 
years of active, enterprising, sagacious and upright 
business life, in which he laid the foundation of an 



16 



ample fortune, and the broader and better foundation 
of an honored name m this community, an invalid state 
of health compelled him to retire from active pursuits 
and refrain from any very direct or frequent participa- 
tion in commercial affairs. Always, from his early 
manhood, he was benevolent, sjinpathetic and jmblic 
spirited. Even amid the pressing engagements of busi- 
ness, he failed not to aid m all noble efforts for noble 
ends. Since his retirement, he has devoted himself 
almost exclusively to works of benevolence and philan- 
thropy. For the last twenty years to do good was his 
only business; an ample fortune, a large, generous, 
Christian heart, and health only sufficient for such an 
occupation, enabled him to conduct this business with 
eminent success, and to find in it his highest pleasure. 
In addition to large donations to public institutions, 
designed to commemorate patriotism or relieve suffer- 
ing, or foster learning and religion — he has poured forth 
a constant stream of smaller charities. Feeling that his 
life hung on a thread, that every day might be his last, 
every day was marked by some errand of mercy, some 
expression of sympathy that gladdened the lieart, or 
some substantial token of kindness that relieved the 
wants of the recipient. Thus passed his latter years in 
usefulness and honor, the love and gratitude of many 
hearts gathering around liis name. At the close of a 



n 



day, marked like many of its predecessors, by thought 
and care for some whom the world had forgotten, he laid 
down to rest. Sleep, the sleep of a good conscience, of 
a cheerful, devout and trustful heart, — sleep, soft and 
gentle like that of innocence and childhood, came 
upon him ; and from that sleep, after a brief, uncon- 
scious struggle, his spirit passed from earth, — leaving 
upon his countenance a look, 

" So fair, so calm, so softly sealed, 
The first, last look by death revealed," 

that one could not but regard it as a reflection, and an 
assurance of the peace and joy of that spirit, in 
another world. 

Such is a brief outline of the life of our departed 
friend. To complete the sketch and make it a finished 
portrait, full of the living colors of his whole charac- 
ter, as it lies in my mind after a close and intimate 
friendship, would require a long and nice delineation. 
I have only time now to notice some general qualities. 

I have intimated that Mr. Lawrence w^as intellectually 
great. I think he was so. By this I do not mean, that 
he was a scholar or learned man, with a mind devel- 
oped and disciplined by severe training, and enlarged 
by rich and varied cidture in the various departments 
of human thought and study. This we know he was 



18 



not, although he was a man of considerable reading, 
who loved and appreciated the best books in English 
literature. But I mean that he was a man of great 
native vigor of intellect, whose mind was clear, strong, 
comprehensive in its grasp, penetrating, far-reaching in 
its observation, discerning and discrimmating in its judg- 
ments, sagacious in its conclusions, — a mind which, if 
enriched with the requisite culture, and du-ected to 
such objects, would have made him eminent in any of 
the walks of literary or professional life, as without 
that culture, it did make him eminent in those walks 
of practical, commercial life to which he did direct it. 
I mention this, not to dwell upon it, but simply because 
some who have known him little, and that little only 
since disease had somewhat sapped his strength, may 
not do him justice in this respect. Those who remem- 
ber his early manhood, who saw the strong, bold and 
vigorous tread with which he walked forward to his 
rightful place among the merchants of this City — those 
who remember the sagacity of his enterprises, his quick 
and accurate discernment of character, and the com- 
manding influence he exercised over others, the ease and 
rapidity with wlvch he managed the concerns of a large 
commercial establishment, and decided and despatched 
the most important conuncrcial negotiation — these will 
be ready to admit that he was uitellectually a strong 



19 



man. To the last, this vigor of intellect showed itself, 
if not always in his conversation, yet always in his 
letters, many of which will be found to have a force of 
thought, a fulness of wisdom and sound judgment, a 
terse, epigrammatic comprehensiveness of expression, 
of which no man, however distinguished for his learn- 
ing and scholarship, would have need to be ashamed. 

The merchants of this City have ever been distin- 
guished, I believe, for their integrity and benevolence. 
Nowhere is wealth acquired by a more honest and 
healthy commercial activity ; nowhere is a larger pro- 
portion of it devoted to all the objects which a wise 
philanthropy, an extended patriotism and a tender 
Christian sympathy would foster and promote. Mr. 
Lawrence was conspicuous for these qualities. His 
integrity, I may venture to say, stands absolutely unim- 
peached, without spot or blemish. His history as a 
merchant, from first to last, will bear the strictest scru- 
tiny. Its minutest incidents, which have faded from 
the memory of those concerned, its most secret acts, 
those of which no human eye could take knowledge, 
might all be brought into the light before us, and like 
those, I trust, of many of his fraternity, they would 
seem only to illustrate the purity and integrity of his 
principles, the conscientious regard to truth, and right, 
and justice, with which he conducted all the negotia- 



20 



tions of business, and all the affairs of his life. He 
seemed ever to me to have a reverence for right, unal- 
loyed, unfaltering, supreme, — a moral perception and a 
moral sensibility, which kept him from dc^dating a 
hair's breadth from what he saw and felt to be his 
duty. It was this that constituted the strength of his 
character, and was one of the great secrets of his suc- 
cess. It was this that secured him, when a young man, 
the entire confidence, and an almost unlimited use of 
the capital of some of the wealthiest and best men of 
that day. 

Of his benevolence, to which I have already alluded, 
the evidence is in many institutions, and in multitudes 
of hearts, far and near, throughout the wide borders of 
our land. To go to work to prove it in this commu- 
nity, woidd be like bringing proof that the sun shines. 
It was a benevolence, however, not impulsive, but con- 
scientious. He had warm affections, a tender, sym- 
pathizing heart. These mingled in his charities, but 
did not alone prompt them, direct or control them. 
He gave from principle and conscience, because he 
wished to be a faithful steward of the Lord's bounty. 
He gave as his judgment, and not alone as his feelmgs 
dictated, or as the feelings and wishes of others would 
sometimes have dictated to him. He preserved his 
independence and individuality of character even in 



21 



his charities. These charities were large, though their 
precise amount has probably not yet been ascertained 
or declared. When this is done, it will be found that 
few men, in their life-time, and while it was really 
theirs to give, have ever given away a larger amount of 
money in proportion to their property, or more com- 
pletely justified the expression he often applied to him- 
self, that " he had been his own executor," in regard 
to his charities. 

But the benevolence of Mr. Lawrence was not con- 
fined to these charities, though these were a noble illus- 
tration of it. It beamed in his countenance, expressed 
itself in his manners, and found vent in all the ten- 
der sympathies of social intercourse. It manifested 
itself particularly in his interest in the young, in 
the extent to which he ever shared in their feelings, 
was sensible of their perils, and endeavored to guard 
them by the power of noble principles and generous 
affections. Those who were present at his funeral, and 
heard those youthful voices, and saw that youthful 
band gathering with theu* offerings of flowers, and sing- 
ing their Christian requiem around his bier, will not 
soon forget the scene, or the lesson which it taught — 
will not doubt that the young loved him, and that not 
the least sphere of his usefulness was among tlicm^ in 
the extent to which his exami^le, cncouiagement and 



22 



counsel strengthened them in the Avays of virtue, in- 
spired them with a love of God and goodness. 

But the prominent feature in Mr. Lawrence's life and 
character, its inspiration and its guide, was religion, — 
religious faith, affection and hope. He loved God, and 
therefore he loved all God's creatures. He believed in 
Christ, as the promised Messiah and Saviour of the 
world, and therefore found peace and strength to his 
soul, amid all the perils, duties and sorrows of life. 

His religious opinions lay distinct and clear in his 
own mind. They were the result of careful reading 
and of serious reflection, and were marked by a pro- 
found reverence for the sacred Scriptures, and the di- 
vine authority of Jesus Christ. A constant worshipper 
here, during the forty-six years of his residence in this 
City, for more than forty years of this period a com- 
municant, and for more than ten, a deacon of this 
Church, resigning the office at length because of his 
invalid state of health, he had strong attachments to 
this house of God. " Our venerable Church," he says, 
in one of his notes to me, " has in it deeply impressive, 
improving, instructive and interesting associations, go- 
ing back to the early days of my worshipping there ; 
and the prayers of my friends and fellow-worshippers 
of three generations, in part now belonging there, come 
in aid of my weakness m tune of need ; and no other 



23 



spot, but that home Avlicre I was first taught my 
prayers, and this my domestic fireside, where my chil- 
dren have been taught theirs, has the same interest as 
our own old Brattle Square Church^ 

But there was nothing narrow or sectarian about Mr. 
Lawrence's religious opinions or feelings. He had a 
large catholic spirit, which embraced within the arms 
of its love, and of its pecuniary bounty also, when 
needed, all denominations of Christians ; and it is to be 
hoped that the influence of his example and character 
has done something, and will continue to do more, to 
rebuke that bigotry, which " makes its own light the 
measure of another's illumination." He took no 
pleasure m religious disputes or dissensions. The 
practical in Christianity Avas what interested him. His 
great aim A\as to illustrate his faith by his daily walk, 
and authenticate his creed by a life of practical useful- 
ness, constant benevolence and cheerful piety. This 
aim he successfully accomplished, to the conviction of 
persons of all creeds and of every name. These will all 
give him a place in the Church Universal ; will all ad- 
mit that he was a noble specimen of a true Christian, a 
loiing and believing disciple, who had the very spirit 
of the Master. That spirit pervaded his daily life, and 
formed the moral atmosphere in which he li\ed and 
breathed. It quickened in him all holy, devout and 



24 



l)ious affections, gave him a profound reverence, a 
cheerful submission, a bright and glorious hope — a 
hope that crowned every hour of life Avith gladness, 
robbed death of all terror, and in his soul brought 
Heaven down to earth. 

I have thus given, (and this is all that could be given 
without too large a departure from the usual and ap- 
propriate services of the Lord's day,) a brief outline of 
the life, an imperfect portraiture of the character of 
our departed friend and fellow-worshipper, W'ho for so 
many years has gone in and out before us in all the 
beauty of holiness, benevolence and Christian piety. 
His example should not, I trust it will not, be lost 
upon us or upon our community. He has gone, but 
that example, the fragrance of his memory, the lessons 
of his life and the admonitions of his death remain. 
Let us gather up these, and apply them to our hearts 
and consciences. We have met with a great loss. 
Death has snatched from us, one whose departure will 
be sorely felt and widely lamented, by many who saw 
him daily, and by many more who never saw him. His 
person was unknoA\ai to them, but his name was en- 
shrined in the love and gratitude of their hearts. He 
will be missed by many, and in many places. He w ill 
be missed here in this house of worship, by all the 
members of this Church and Society, and we must all 



25 



unite our zeal, our fidelity and devotedness, to make his 
place good among us. He will be missed in our streets, 
where his cheerful presence has been so long known 
and noticed by all. He will be missed among the poor, 
and in our Hospitals and Asylums, where his frequent 
visits and presents brought a ray of light to many a 
darkened mind, and of gladness to many a sorrowing 
heart. He will be missed in the family circle, by the 
domestic fireside, where he was an object of the love, the 
reverence and the tenderest assiduities of those, whose 
bereaved hearts, not human sympathy, but di\'ine help 
and consolations can alone comfort. But to all by 
whom he ^vill be missed, the loss may be made a gain, 
if they will but be faithful. " Being dead he yet speak- 
eth," speaketh with more power, more solemnly, more 
persuasively than when living. His death gives a 
sacredness to his memory, a moral force to his exam- 
ple and character, which they could not possess be- 
fore. Let not the influence, then, of his life and of his 
death, be lost upon any of us. To the young let them 
be an incentive to virtuous principle, to manly effort, to 
early and consistent piety. To those who are bearing 
the burden and heat of the day, let them be a check to 
restrain, a guide to control them in the perilous paths 
of business and enterprise ; and to the old, an admo- 
nition to have their hoary heads found in the way of 



26 



righteousness. To all of us, let them be a call to 
repentance and holmess of life. Blow after blow, ca- 
lamity after calamity, bereavement after bereavement 
has Divine Providence sent to teach us the msecurity, 
the insignificance and the vanity of earthly thmgS. 
Let us not be insensible to the di-\ine teachings. Let us 
understand that " but one thing is needfid," possessing 
which, w^e are rich though we have nothing else ; des- 
titute of which we are " poor indeed," though we hold 
in our hand title deeds to the property of the whole 
world. With an earnest purpose of heart, hearuig 
ever the voices of those who through faith and patience 
liave inherited the promises, saying unto us, " Come u]> 
hither," let us seek first the kingdom of God and the 
righteousness thereof. 



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